


All She Could've Asked For

by 2babyturtles



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Goodbyes, Happily Ever After, Happy Ending, Love, M/M, Romance, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 17:46:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12041016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2babyturtles/pseuds/2babyturtles
Summary: “Most of the time, loving Sherlock wasn’t too hard. Sometimes it was the easiest thing in the world. Sure, there were times I wanted to kill him. We all felt that way but I think the most important thing for me is that loving Sherlock came naturally."





	All She Could've Asked For

“Most of the time, loving Sherlock wasn’t too hard. Sometimes it was the easiest thing in the world. Sure, there were times I wanted to kill him. We all felt that way”--the gathered crowd laughed appropriately.—“but I think the most important thing for me is that loving Sherlock came naturally. For all of us. We couldn’t help admire the way he dressed so nicely no matter how he was feeling. The way he played the most beautiful music. The way he hauntd the world with as much fierce as it undoubtedly haunted him. London itself belonged to Sherlock Holmes and I speak for all of us when I say that it will miss him dearly.”

A stillness had settled over those in attendance and quiet tears stained their cheeks. It was truly amazing to see the impact Sherlock had had on London, and all of Europe really. There were people who would not be alive if not for the famous detective, and people whose lives had only become worth living once they’d met him. There were friends and family and friends so close they were family too.

When the ceremony was over, and the great black coffin of Sherlock Holmes was laid to rest in the soft dirt, people were hesitant to leave. They’d all seen the way John smiled. They’d seen the little glint of hope in his eyes. There was no doubt—John hadn’t yet processed the loss of his husband. Mrs. Hudson, especially, was nervous to leave John on his own.

Even in her old age, she fussed over her boys like the housekeeper she swore she was not and the mother she’d always wanted to be. Incredibly, Rosie was the only one who was not obviously concerned. With the loss of one of her fathers, it seemed strange that she’d be so comfortable with the conflicting display of emotion from her other. Of course, it should have been no surprise.

“Are you ready?” she asked him, adjusting his tie and smoothing his hair.

John couldn’t help grinning, despite the uncomfortable glances it drew from those nearby. “More than I can say,” he responded. The sincerity in his voice was so thick that a fresh wave of tears washed over Rosie.

Molly, who was watching casually from nearby, smiled softly. Of everyone there, she was the only one who knew. Not because anyone told her, but because she knew Sherlock and John better than anyone besides Rosie. If Sherlock was gone, John couldn’t be too far behind.

“I’m gonna miss you, daddy,” Rosie whispered, smiling and crying at the same time. “Tell him hi for me, and tell him I love you both more than anything.” She wrapped her arms around John’s neck and embraced him for the last time, a hug that could’ve gone on forever and never been long enough.

“Thanks, boo,” he smiled. He wasn’t crying. Not really. But he would. He knew he would. He’d miss his little girl a whole lot. But with a husband, a little girl, and a baby on the way, she had plenty else in her life. He would be the only one alone if he stayed.

When they stepped apart and Rosie turned to catch up with her little family, John watched her go with pride shining in his eyes. He caught Molly watching and smiled sadly at her. She smiled, too, and he knew she knew. They nodded to each other, one last gesture of friendship after so many years. And then he left.

It was quiet. He didn’t want to make a show of it, not least of all because it would draw too much attention to his plan. To _their_ plan. He pulled his keys and his phone from his pocket, sending off a quick text as he climbed in the car. He didn’t bother to check that his bag was still in the trunk—he wouldn’t care if it wasn’t.

He didn’t go back to 221B. He’d made peace with the fact that he wouldn’t go back there. Instead, they went to Baskerville. Not to stay, of course. But it made for a pretty romantic rendezvous.

When he pulled up to the familiar old inn, a comfortable sight despite the decades since he’d seen it last, he couldn’t help smiling. It didn’t make a lot of sense. None of it did. But it didn’t have to. Curly hair, Belstaff, and the famous hat, Sherlock Holmes was standing in front of the inn, poring over a map of the area. He was, more than anything, alive.

“We did say fifty quid?” John laughed as he got out of the car, a memory of their previous trip here strong in his mind.

Sherlock straightened and smiled. “’The Hounds of Baskerville’,” he mused. “One of your better titles. Much more straightforward. How was the funeral?” He greeted John with a warm hug and a soft kiss.

“Sad,” John replied, melting against Sherlock’s chest. “Rosie says she loves us.”

“Of course she does, that’s why she won’t tell anyone,” Sherlock said. “She’s a good girl.”

“Molly knows, too.”

“Did she say something?”

“No. She just knows.”

Sherlock smiled. “She’s good, too. I hope she’s happy. She deserves it.” John agreed, nodding against Sherlock.

“Are you ready, dear?” he asked, peering up at Sherlock with a mischievous expression.

“More than you know,” the former detective responded heartily. Carefully, with slow, precise movements, Sherlock removed his hat. He left it on the corner of the map, a quiet farewell to the life he’d always known.

“Just Sherlock Holmes,” John mused quietly. He was surprised at the emotion in his chest and realized that, more than anything, he was losing his own life. Theirs had been the stuff of legends and now, after decades, the legend was dying.

“Just yours, John,” Sherlock responded. “I never needed to be anything more than that.”

Together, they climbed back into the car and left. They drove someplace sometime, and somewhere else another time. They didn’t have a plan, nor did they need one. But they held hands a lot and sometimes they pulled over just to kiss each other or look at a pretty view. Rosie got postcards often from places she’d never heard of or places she knew they’d always wanted to go.

She wasn’t sure when they passed, but at some point the postcards stopped coming. It could’ve been an accident or it could’ve been peacefully in their sleep. But they went together. That was all she could’ve asked for.


End file.
